Moving Forward
by Bernadeen
Summary: Beginning six months after the series finale, we see what life has in store for Harm.
1. Chapter 1

**Moving Forward**

By Bernadeen

Disclaimer: I don't own and claim no rights to any of the JAG characters. This story is only for entertainment purposes.

Classification: Romance (H/other)

Rating: T

Summary: Beginning six months after the series finale, we see what life has in store for Harm.

A/N: Warning: this is not a H/M shipper story. I'm a shipper and I loved seeing Harm and Mac together in the last episode. But sometimes I just can't see "happily ever after" for them. This story came to me in nearly complete form and compelled me to write it down. I have not had that experience with any other story, and it was a little disconcerting, though not unpleasant. And it's written in first person – a style I have not tried before. I am very interested in readers' opinions. Here we go ….

**Moving Forward**

I have never been a strong believer in Fate .. in the idea that things happen for a reason. In the relatively sheltered 34 years of my life, there have been no catastrophic events .. bad events, that is .. that I have had to overcome. That is not to say that life always went in the direction I intended. But when that happened .. even when at first it appeared that life was taking a negative turn .. things have always turned out all right. As I have gotten a few years past my naive youth, I have come to realize that things turn out all right because I don't dwell on the 'what if's' and the 'might have been's' .. I don't rail against events beyond my control. I have told my friends that I don't worry about anything. If something is beyond my control, there is no point in wasting energy worrying, and if it is within my control to change, then I don't worry either .. I plan on how to make that change. So if there is such a thing as Fate or Destiny, I have gone with the flow and never thought very deeply about it.

But on a cold November evening in London, a life changing event, for me, occurred, and there is no other explanation as to how it happened except that it was Destiny. I will always wonder what made me stop by the pub that evening. I have concluded that my actions could only have been directed by Fate.

It had been a tiring day in my job as advisor to the diplomatic staff at the American Embassy in London. I am an attorney specializing in international law. London is a relatively new assignment for me. I've spent time in Washington, D.C., Tokyo, a short stint in Paris, and now, for the last four months, in London. This day had not included any one matter that drained my energy. It's just that in a U.S. embassy on foreign soil, there are a wide variety of situations that require legal advice. There's a senior attorney who handles the really big cases, which just means that I field all the others. Today it seemed that more situations demanded my time than usually happened all at once.

So, while I seldom drink, and generally don't like bars, and can't actually remember the last time I ventured into one alone, I felt almost a physical tug toward this pub as I drove past. The street was narrow with cars parked on both sides and I had been driving slowly, cautious lest a pedestrian step into the dimly lit street. I saw the pub .. the 'Release Your Cares' Pub .. I had to squint and stare to be sure I read the name right .. then saw the small parking lot next to it and, without conscious thought turned my car into it. It was that time between the after work crowd and the evening partiers, so the lot was only partly full. I pulled into a parking space, put the transmission in park, and pondered the action I seemed about to take. I very nearly turned around and drove away .. but for some reason that I do not understand to this day, I decided that a glass of wine in a quiet, dark bar, might be all right, just this once.

So here I am, stepping into the dimly lit pub. Warmth, cigarette smoke .. though not as acrid as in American bars, and soft, rhythmic music envelop me. The woodwork is dark and looks old, as everything seems to be in London. A well worn wooden bar in the shape of a semicircle is straight ahead of me, at the front of the room. The tables scattered around the room are about two-thirds occupied. I see all this in my quick nervous glance, as I walk toward the bar.

I order a glass of merlot, knowing that if I drink all of it, my empty stomach and lack of resistance to the effects of alcohol will require me to stay here for some time, until I feel I can safely drive home.

I take my wine to a small table at the side of the room where I can sit and watch the other patrons in relative anonymity, if I choose. Some tables are occupied by couples, casual acquaintances or lovers, the difference clear from their body language. At a couple of tables are men swapping stories over beers .. or perhaps ale is a more correct term. As I survey the occupants, my gaze wonders to the back of the room to a dark corner just two tables from mine. A man sits alone, nursing a drink that appears to be whiskey or bourbon, a cigar smoldering in the ash tray in the center of the table. What catches my attention is the man's dejected posture. His broad shoulders are slumped, his head hangs slightly .. sorrow and pain are almost a visible shroud around him. He stares at the table, lost in gloomy thought, as he habitually twists his wedding ring around and around on his left hand.

It doesn't take a mind reader, I decide, to know that this man's sorrow is related to his marriage. I indulge in a game of imagining various background stories that could cause such sadness .. feeling slightly guilty at this game using a real live person's obvious tragedy. His wife could have died. Some fatal disease, like cancer. She could have been killed in a car accident. Perhaps she was alive but had left him. She had cheated on him because he worked too long hours and neglected her. Still, from what I could see of the man, unless he abused her, I couldn't imagine a woman finding someone more attractive. But appearances and first impressions don't tell the whole story. I don't know whether we ever know the whole story where other people are concerned, even though we know them for a long while. It has been my experience that people I thought I knew well surprised me with their actions, some of those surprises were unpleasant ones.

Shifting my attention back to the man, I strain to see him better in the dim light. He looks familiar somehow. Even though he is slumped slightly, he appears to be used to holding himself strongly upright .. perhaps military training. His dark hair is cut short, again perhaps indicating a connection with the military. He is strongly built, appears to be in excellent physical shape. Even sitting, he looks to be taller than average. It's difficult to judge his age, though I can see no gray in his dark hair, yet there are maturity lines on his face. Early to mid-forties, probably.

Suddenly he looks up, as though he has sensed my stare. In the dim light I can't see his eyes very well, but he is looking straight at me. I smile shyly and look away. I know from experience that my looks are not the kind to attract and hold men's attention. My body is slim and athletic. My slightly curly, light brown hair is a cap around my head that is easy to care for but not a style to attract the opposite sex. My eyes are hazel and my face is unremarkable, neither homely, I hope, but certainly not pretty. I am well groomed, and in the right setting, I can be attractive, I think, but a dark pub after a long, tiring day isn't that setting.

Yet when I cautiously glance back his way, he is still staring at me. The feeling that I should know who he is tickles the back of my mind. Finally he picks up his drink glass, and on the path to his lips, he lifts it in a slight salute towards me. I'm surprised at the acknowledgment, and I nod in response, hoping that he doesn't think I'm trying to pick him up.

He tosses back the remainder of his drink, stubs out his cigar, and stands up. Oh, oh! Apparently he does think I wanted his attention .. he's coming towards my table. I was right .. he is tall. I have to look up a long way as he gets closer. For whatever reason, my heart is pounding in my throat .. too many stories these days about serial rapists and killers picking up women in bars. I knew coming into a pub alone was a bad idea!

"Excuse me, ma'am, I don't mean to intrude, but you work at the American Embassy, don't you?" he inquires politely in a voice like rich cream. And he's American.

I stammer a bit. "Yes .. I. I do. And forgive me for staring, but you look familiar. I just can't place you." Oh, God, does that sound like a pick up line, or what?

"I'm a Navy lawyer," he responds but doesn't introduce himself further, as though he's just giving me a hint to see whether I'll get it.

And I do. His identify clicks in my memory. "Now I remember. Captain Harmon Rabb, Force Judge Advocate." and I laugh a bit as I add, "A bit of an understatement, don't you think? Saying you're a Navy lawyer."

An almost genuine smile curves his lips .. and what a smile it is! He holds out his hand. "You're right .."

He pauses to allow me to introduce myself, which I do, as I return his handshake. "Christine Montgomery."

"Pleased to meet you. It's always nice to meet another American."

I jump into the conversation nervously. "I should have recognized you right away. At the Embassy, we need to know who are the prominent Americans in the U.K. You're on the list."

A teasing light enters his eyes. "I'm glad to be on the list .. I think." He indicates the chair across from me. "May I?"

"Of course."

"Now I'm the one who should know this, because I've seen the staff list for the Embassy, but what's your role there?"

"I'm the junior diplomatic advisor. Actually, I'm a lawyer specializing in international law."

He leans back with raised eyebrows. "Well, well, another lawyer. And one of my specialties is also international law. We'll have to talk shop sometime .. but not right now," he smiles.

"Yes, we've probably both had some interesting cases." Suddenly I feel my stomach growl and hope he doesn't hear it. I realize that I've been in the pub nearly an hour and I should be getting home to my supper. I glance at my watch and say, "I really should be going. It was nice meeting you."

As I begin to gather my purse and gloves from the table, he notices my nearly full wine glass. "You've hardly touched your wine."

"I have to drive home and it doesn't take much wine on an empty stomach to impair my reflexes."

His eyes seem to glint in the dim light. "Since you haven't eaten, would you join me for supper?"

I stammer quickly, feeling an embarrassed flush in my cheeks, "Oh, I.. I didn't mean that .. about my empty stomach .. to be a hint .. really. It was just a statement of fact." Unable to meet his gaze, I look downward to the table and to his hands resting on it .. and to his wedding ring. "Besides, it wouldn't be appropriate. Appearances and perceptions are very important here and you're married."

He looks at his ring and gives it a couple of twists with his right hand. "I'm not sure why I'm still wearing it. I guess technically I am still married, at least until the divorce papers I signed today are filed with the court," he says in a soft, sad voice.

"I'm sorry, Captain." Without knowing the circumstances, I don't know what else to say. But I add, "Even more reason for us not to be seen dining in public late in the evening."

His intense gaze captures my eyes and I shiver, for no apparent reason. "You're right. It's too bad. I would have enjoyed the company." He reaches for his coat draped over the back of a nearby chair and pulls out his wallet. Removing a business card, he slides it across the table toward me. "Christine, here's my card. You're the diplomatic advisor." He smiles slightly as he says it. "You decide how long it's appropriate for me to wait until I can be seen in public with an attractive woman. Then you call me." He can feel me hesitate and adds with even more urgency, "Promise me you'll call," and he places his card in my hand.

I look down at it, then meet his eyes. I feel compelled to tell him what he wants to hear. "Yes, I'll call," I agree, though I'm not sure in my mind whether I mean it. I can see that he's aware of my doubt, but he says no more about it. Instead, he reaches for my coat and asks if I'm ready to leave. I nod and stand up while he holds my coat for me to slip on.

"I'll walk you to your car," he offers. As we weave our way between tables which are much more crowded than an hour ago, I feel his hand lightly touching the small of my back. It's a message to others that he is my protector until I reach the safety of my car. I like the feeling.

As I get into my car, he simply wishes me good night, then stands back and watches until I have left the parking lot.

It's the middle of the night and I should be sleeping. I just can't get his face and his voice out of my mind. And he called me attractive. 'You're not some silly teenager with a crush,' I scold myself. But tonight I felt such a strong attraction .. stronger than I've ever felt for anyone else. I'm 34 and have certainly known a lot of men .. not in the Biblical sense .. but I've been acquainted with, and friends with, a lot of men. Law school was male dominated so most of my study partners were men. I have always enjoyed the company of men, though early in life I reconciled myself to the fact that men usually want me for a friend, not a lover. I'm not sexy, I'm not provocative, I'm not feminine enough, I guess. Perhaps I could be more that way if I try, but that's just not me. And who am I kidding .. I don't have the looks to be sexy and provocative. Oh, I've had a couple of semi-serious relationships. I even thought one would lead to something more permanent. But neither of us seemed compelled to move things forward, and we finally realized that what we felt wasn't strong enough to build a lifetime together.

Will I call him? And if I do, how long should I wait? I don't think there is a Miss Manners book for the U.K. that lists how long a person must wait after their divorce is final to begin dating. It's not like his wife died and there is an appropriate period of mourning. Yet in this case, if I read the situation right, it was not his idea to split up. She left him so he is in mourning. He is the one hurt and he must recover from his loss. So how long? Certainly nothing less than a month. Yes, at least a month.

Will I call him? The situation scares me. I'm afraid that I could fall hard for this guy, and that can only lead to frustration and disappointment for me, for I'm not sophisticated enough, not poised enough, not pretty enough to be of romantic interest to a hot guy like Harmon Rabb. Besides, after a month, he won't remember me anyway.

Still unable to sleep, I get up and turn on my laptop. A quick search on his name brings up an interesting list of articles and notices. The first one on the list is an article from the Washington Post about his promotion and appointment as Navy Force Judge Advocate for Europe, effective May 1 of this year. The article lists highlights of his career and awards he has received. Two Distinguished Flying Crosses … Distinguished Flying Crosses? I thought he was a lawyer. Reading further I find that he is also a fighter pilot. Interesting. He also received the Silver Star. I wonder what the awards were for. This article lists no wife, so she must have been a recent addition.

I keep clicking on links, and find a marriage announcement just two weeks after his assignment to London. It looks like he married a Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, USMC retired. The marriage must have hit the rocks almost immediately. I suppose hasty marriages and high failure rates are common in the military. A transfer can accelerate a wedding where the couple are not ready and may never be ready to be married.

I find articles on high profile cases he handled while at JAG headquarters in Washington. He was lead prosecutor at the military tribunal of a terrorist. I remember that case .. the first tribunal in 50 years. His name appears in several Congressional investigations. It appears he was advisor to a Congresswoman Bobbi Latham for a time. The articles are fascinating and begin to paint a picture of a distinguished military officer who is far more than a lawyer.

Having exhausted the Google search, I turn to a source that I use as diplomatic advisor. I'm curious about his soon-to-be-ex-wife and type in her name. The listing comes back: Lt. Colonel, USMC, commanding officer of Joint Legal Service Center, San Diego. So, she didn't retire after all. Her name appeared in some of the articles about his cases. They worked together at JAG HQ. Did he expect her to give up her career in the military to marry him? As a professional woman who has worked hard to achieve a successful career, I can understand if Lt. Colonel MacKenzie didn't settle in well as a wife without her military career. And finding work as a civilian lawyer in a foreign country probably wouldn't have been easy.

Next I search on his name .. it's funny ... I'm not quite sure how to refer to him, even in my own mind. The meeting was quite formal, though cordial. Should I think of him as 'Captain' or as 'Harmon'? His friends probably call him 'Harm' just as mine sometimes call me 'Chris' or 'Tina' but I actually prefer 'Christine'. If I actually do see him again, I'll have to ask him his preference to be addressed.

I type in his name and his bio comes back. Born October 25, 1963. So he just turned 42 last month .. I wasn't far off in my estimate of his age. I scroll down the page of information: born in La Jolla, California. Father deceased. Emergency contact: Patricia Burnett, mother. Next-of-kin: mother, brother whose name and address are Russian .. must be an interesting story there. No mention of a wife .. sometimes it takes six months or more for personnel information to be updated so his marriage isn't shown here. These records still show his rank as commander and his location as Judge Advocate General Corps, Falls Church, Virginia.

Having learned what I can about the man I met tonight .. actually last night .. I sit back with a sigh. The question still remains .. will I call him and, if so, when? OK, that's two questions, but if the answer to the first is no, the second doesn't matter.

I reach for a plastic basket I use for odds and ends on this table where my laptop sits .. it's a semi-permanent work space .. my apartment has a small breakfast bar in the kitchen where I usually eat so I don't need this table for that. Quickly shuffling a few items, I find what I am looking for .. a 2005 calendar of all months on cardboard about half the size of a sheet of paper. OK, so today .. ah, yesterday was November 4 so if I wait a month to call him, that's December 4, a Sunday. His card had all his phone numbers .. office, cell, home. Where would be appropriate to call him? Perhaps his cell .. then I will be sure to reach only him or his voicemail. When to call? Not Sunday. Monday afternoon would work ..

I shake my head, amused and frustrated with the direction my thoughts are taking. But, like a kid excitedly waiting for a special day to arrive, I circle Monday, December 5, on the calendar. I'll just have to make up my mind by that time whether or not to actually make the call.

The weekend turned cold and wet so I spent most of it cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, catching up on some work I brought home and some personal financial items, and cooking a few things I can freeze for quick meals on evenings when I'm too tired to cook. On Sunday evening I took out the calendar and carefully marked an X through November 5 and 6. I felt foolish doing it .. it was so juvenile .. but no one would ever know and we can all be silly once in awhile, can't we?

November days passed much as other days had since I arrived in London, except that the weather had deteriorated. During weekends in my first few months here, there had been sight seeing with co-workers, shopping trips, and occasionally a Saturday morning coffee gathering. But as my position in the Embassy hierarchy was established, an invisible barrier seemed to form between me and some of those co-workers because they were support staff and I was in the professional ranks. It was not my choice and I didn't really realize what was happening until the invitations diminished.

Still, I usually attended the occasional after work gatherings at a local pub .. not the Release Your Cares pub .. but at the Henry Higgins Pub, which everyone at the Embassy referred to simply as "Henry's". It's now Friday evening two weeks after my stop at Release Your Cares, and a group of Embassy employees have gathered at Henry's. A young attorney whom I know from the Defense Attaché Office, David Chandler, brings with him a friendly and perky Navy lieutenant from the JAG office, Catherine Graves. David asks to join my table .. we are the only lawyers there and he probably feels the need to close ranks .. and introduces me to Cathy. I like David and I am immediately charmed by Cathy. Her enthusiastic chatter fills any pauses in the conversation. She is a fan of mystery writers and movies, but clearly enjoys solving real life mysteries. Apparently her recent transfer to JAG allows her to do research and assist in investigations that she enjoys immensely.

I casually ask how many people work in the JAG office. My question produces a reference to the name I wanted to hear. Cathy doesn't answer my question directly, but talks about all the recent changes beginning with the new Force Judge Advocate, Captain Rabb, who took command in May. Of course, Cathy is quick to say that she didn't arrive until July, but she knew the Captain from an earlier investigation when he was stationed at JAG HQ in Washington, and she is thrilled to be working for him at JAG. She praises him as an investigator and as a commanding officer. Seems she has a case of hero worship .. something I can certainly understand, even after my brief meeting with the Captain. In spite of Cathy's talkativeness and openness, she is very discrete about the private lives of anyone in her office, especially about Captain Rabb. Not a word slips out about anything related to his personal life. And as I listen carefully, she really doesn't say much about any case or incident either. My respect for this young woman increases. She's quite clever at appearing candid and so inviting others to speak freely, though she really isn't sharing any secrets of her own. Whether she has consciously developed this style or it comes naturally, I can understand why she does very well as an investigator.

I don't learn any more about Captain Rabb this evening, and the non-partying types, like me, begin leaving for home.

The beginning of another work week. This one will be shorter because Thursday is Thanksgiving. Even though it's not a British holiday, the American Embassy still observes the holiday by closing for the day. I don't have family in this country but I plan to make a nice traditional dinner. Full breasted frozen turkeys that are so abundant in the U.S. at this time of year are hard to find here. I finally settle for a plump duck and scour my cookbooks for the right way to prepare it. As I go about these tasks, I wonder whether Captain Rabb .. Harm .. is alone for Thanksgiving, too. I'm very tempted to shorten my self-imposed waiting period and call him. But if he has plans .. perhaps he does have a family .. children from a previous marriage for instance .. it would be awkward. He might think he should include me in his plans. Very awkward. Even if he will be alone, spending Thanksgiving together is a little too much for a first date! So I continue to cross days off my calendar and eat roast duck alone on Thanksgiving.

While days moved along at their normal pace for most of November, suddenly they are racing by. On Monday after Thanksgiving I realize .. well, I hadn't really forgotten, so I should say I focus on the fact that it is just one week until the date I set to call Harm. Now the days of this week are flying by and I have to make a decision .. will I call him? Most evenings, for at least a little while, I sit in my apartment doing mental lists of pros and cons. As the weekend approaches, I haven't been able to find strong enough cons to break my promise to call.

And so here it is, Monday morning. I made sure his card was in my wallet before leaving for work this morning. I will call after lunch. I will … I will … of course I will … and if I don't reach him, should I leave a message? At first I'm thinking 'no' but if I do, then it's up to him to call back. I'll know whether he remembers me and whether he really wants to see me again, or it was just loneliness and pain talking that evening a month ago. And as much as I've looked forward to this call and possibly seeing him again, if I do have to leave a message and he doesn't call back, then this entire month of anticipation will turn into a huge disappointment. Nuts .. I hate this .. this is why I don't date much .. relationships are complicated and hard work and in my experience just not worth it. And as I think this last, a little voice in my mind reminds me that Harm might be worth it.

All right .. it's now 2:30 .. mid-afternoon. I can't stall any longer. I close my office door and dial his cell number. It immediately goes to voice mail. I had made up my mind to leave a message so I do. "Captain Rabb, its Christine Montgomery from the American Embassy." I hope that makes this sound less personal, I think to myself as I say the words. "We met at the Release Your Cares pub about a month ago. I promised to call you so I have. If you'd like to continue this discussion, you can reach me at the Embassy." I hang up the phone, feeling that the message is suitably impersonal and low key. Now I'll just have to wait to see whether he calls back. How long before I give up hope and resign myself to never seeing him again? Darn .. a whole new question. 'Captain Harmon Rabb, you better be worth it,' I think just before I firmly put his face out of my mind for the remainder of the afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Moving Forward**

By Bernadeen

Chapter 2

Just after 9:00 the next morning, I answer my phone and hear a voice that sends shivers down my spine and sets my heart pounding in my throat. "Hello, Christine. It's Harm. I'm glad you called."

"I told you I would."

"So have you decided that we can be seen together without causing a scandal?" There's a teasing note in his voice.

"Well, there's no diplomatic protocol covering this situation, but a month seemed reasonable .. "

"I agree. Listen, I'm actually out of the country right now and won't be back until sometime on Thursday. Can we meet for lunch on Saturday?" He seems in a hurry and without waiting for my response, he hurries on. "Do you know a place called Morgan's Cafe .. it's on Berkeley Square not far from the Embassy?"

"Yes, I know it. What time?"

"12:30?"

"Perfect. I'll be there."

"Good." He hesitates before ending the call and says sincerely, "I really am glad you called. See you Saturday." And with that he's gone.

The remainder of the week is a blur, except for scouring my closet and makeup so I can put my best foot forward on Saturday.

Saturday is misty and cold, as many days have been recently. I have chosen warm chocolate brown slacks, a soft rosy pink sweater, and comfortable shoes. London is a difficult city in which to find parking so I decide to take the subway this morning. I drive to work because the Embassy has parking and because Americans have been warned to avoid public transportation due to the terrorism danger. But this is Saturday morning. The subway won't be busy and it seems like an unlikely time for a terrorist attack. I'll take my chances on public transportation. In the U.S. after 9/11, I refused to let concern about possible terrorism change my actions or plans. I believed that if I let fear influence me, then the terrorists won. But in other countries, I am not stupidly defiant. I am vigilant of my surroundings, of possible dangers, but I don't cower in my apartment or behind the locked Embassy gates. And on this Saturday morning, I decide that I'll risk the subway.

I emerge from the underground station and make the short walk to Berkeley Square. About a half block away from Morgan's Café, I step into a store doorway and pull out my mirror. The mist has tightened my naturally curling hair until I resemble Lil Orphan Annie. It's cute, I guess, but doesn't present the poised, professional image I would like. Oh, well. I am who I am, and while I wish I looked like Sharon Stone, I long ago accepted that that won't ever happen. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I continue toward Morgan's Café.

When I'm still a couple of stores away, I see him. He's waiting in front of the café, and he almost looks nervous. I'm not sure whether that thought helps me or makes me even more nervous. No time to dwell on it now. He sees me approaching and smiles .. a delighted, million-watt smile that ought to be registered as a lethal weapon where women are concerned.

As we meet he reaches towards me and I give him both of my hands, which he gives a welcoming squeeze and continues to hold. "I'm glad you came." He says.

"You thought I might not?"

He makes a slight grimace with his mouth. "I didn't know .. shall we go in .. they have a table ready for us."

After we are settled at our table and have placed our order, I ask, "So you were out of the country. Do you travel a lot?"

"Not like I used to when I was at JAG HQ and was always being sent somewhere on investigations. But my command office covers all of Europe. Since May I've visited the bases that I hadn't been to before. Officially I only have to travel to attend to some high profile matter. But I like to get out of London to keep in tune to what's going on elsewhere."

"So was this week high profile or keeping in tune?"

"Mostly keeping in tune, though there was a matter I had to attend to. While I enjoy the challenge of high profile cases, I can't control their timing so the 'keeping in tune' trips fit into Mattie's schedule better."

"Who's Mattie," I ask with a sinking heart.

"Mattie is my ward. She's 16 and is recovering from a plane accident last spring."

"It sounds like there are several stories behind those brief facts. I'd like to hear about Mattie if you want to tell me."

"You're right, there are several stories. First of all, I've only known Mattie for a couple of years. I was out of the Navy for several months .. another long story for another day .. had lost my job flying for the CIA .. most of that's classified so I can't tell you those stories," he adds as my eyes widened with amazement, "and I was looking for work. I ended up doing some crop dusting for Grace Aviation, which Mattie owned and ran. Her mother had been killed in a car accident a few months earlier and her alcoholic father had abandoned her. I helped her out in the business and petitioned the court to become her guardian." He looks away and smiles fondly but sadly. "She was with me about a year. Her father got himself dried out and they reconciled. She went back to live with him, but when the accident happened, Tom fell off the wagon and disappeared. I was awarded permanent custody."

"Is Mattie all right now?"

"She's still doing some rehab, but considering that the doctors thought she would be a quadriplegic, it's a miracle. The neck injury wasn't a break, only severe swelling, and she's expected to regain full motion of her body .. mostly already has."

"I'm so glad. It's such a tragedy when accidents cut short all the things that young people should be able to enjoy. .. so Mattie's your only family here?" I had noticed that he was no longer wearing a wedding ring.

"Yeah. My mother and stepfather live in California, but they're always traveling. They're likely to stop by London one of these days. I have a half-brother in Russia. I've only met his wife once."

"There's a story to having a brother in Russia, I bet."

He smiles in acknowledgement. "My father was also a Naval aviator .. went MIA on Christmas eve, 1969, during the Vietnam War. I spent a lot of time and energy trying to find out what happened to him. I even ran away the summer I was 16 and went to Southeast Asia to try to track down records. Just a few years ago, I found out he had been a POW and was taken to Russia .. Siberia .. in the early 80's. He escaped, fathered a child, and then was killed by Russian soldiers defending this woman. I met my brother in Chechnya when he was flying helicopters in the Russian army."

"Wow. Sounds like flying is in the genes."

Harm grins. "It must be. My grandfather was also a Naval aviator. He was killed in World War II. But I guess it doesn't have to be a blood connection. Mattie wants to fly, too."

During the conversation, our food has arrived, but Harm has fallen behind eating his because he has been talking. Now he glances at our plates and says, "OK, it's your turn. Do you have family?"

I laugh self-consciously. "My life is going to sound really, really dull to you. I was born in Minnesota. Attended law school in Minneapolis. My parents still live in a small town just south of Minneapolis. I had two brothers. My big brother Bobby was in the Navy and was killed in an accident aboard ship. My little brother Jeffrey also joined the Navy, much to the dismay of my parents. He only stayed in four years, though, and now he's with an engineering firm in Chicago."

"I'm sorry about your brother, Christine," Harm says sincerely. "What ship was he on?"

"The Abraham Lincoln. He loved life on the carrier and he got to see and do a lot during his time in the Navy. Opportunities he would never have had in civilian life. I'm happy for that, but I still miss him."

"The Navy is a good life but it can be rough on families." Harm says wistfully. I'm not sure whether he's thinking about his father or his failed marriage. "So how did you end up in London?"

"I wanted to get out of the Midwest and I was interested in international law. We're a global economy but there are still a lot of legalities that either need to be maintained for protection or should be dismantled because they are barriers to that economy. I wanted to help do that. I got a job with the State Department and ended up working in American Embassies in several countries. London is my latest assignment. I've been here about five months."

As the lunch crowd dwindles, we continue to talk .. about ourselves, about our work. We even got into our career and life goals. I told him I suppose I want a husband and children some day but they aren't high on my list of wants. And I acknowledged that there is a timeclock on whether I have children. When I said that, I saw Harm flinch, as though it was a bad memory for him. I didn't ask about it and he didn't volunteer his thoughts.

He said he wanted to see Mattie in a good college .. the Naval Academy if she chose to follow his footsteps. He might have a chance at Judge Advocate General some day if he stays out of trouble .. this was said with a wry smile and I have the feeling that Harm has not always been able to stay out of trouble in his Navy career. He acknowledged that he wanted a wife and children of his own like most guys, but it wasn't in the cards .. this he said bitterly and I was sure he was referring to his failed marriage. Someday he will tell me about that, I hope, if we grow to be friends, but it's too early yet.

After several hours of enjoyable conversation, we left the café. He said he needed to spend some time with Mattie since he's been gone. I gave him my card with all my phone numbers, and we promised to keep in touch. He even said he'd call and arrange to meet after work one day next week.

And that's the way my friendship with Harmon Rabb began and grew. Over the winter, we saw each other at least once a week, for conversation, for the theatre, to discuss cases .. we found each was a good sounding board on difficult cases to help the other see the facts in a new light. It was clear that he enjoyed my company, and I certainly enjoyed his. Though there was light-hearted teasing, it was platonic, almost brother-sister. I certainly didn't think of him in a brotherly manner, but I was very much afraid that was the only way he would ever see me .. as his little sister. It occurred to me one day that he might be trying to fill my dead older brother's role in my life. I desperately hoped that was not the case, but there was no evidence that our friendship was anything except platonic.

He did tell me about his marriage. Mac .. apparently Sarah MacKenzie preferred to be called that .. and he had worked together for nine years. He admitted that he had loved her for years, but military rules against fraternization kept them apart. He thought he had lost her to other men on at least two occasions. In one case she was ready to be married when Harm's F-14 went down at sea on the eve of her wedding. The wedding never took place, and while Harm tried to get Mac to listen to his declarations of his feelings, she refused. Finally, they became once again colleagues and friends.

Then this past spring when transfers came through for both of them at the same time to locations that were half a world apart, they finally acknowledged that they loved each other. In a particularly candid moment, Harm told me that Mac had never actually said that she loved him. Harm said it seemed stupid in hindsight, but since they couldn't decide who should give up their career for the marriage to work, he suggested letting Fate decide .. in a coin toss. He had won .. though that term was relative, given later events .. and Mac had followed him to London.

Harm acknowledged that the new command for him, Mac's new retirement, their new marriage, and Mattie's medical needs put great strain on the marriage. It only took a couple of months for it to become clear that Mac felt the sacrifice she made was too great. The Marines had turned her life around .. she didn't know how to handle civilian life. She told Harm the reasons for wanting to end the marriage were that she believed she could not control her alcoholism without the Marine Corps and because she couldn't give Harm children. He was better off without her, she told him. As Harm told me this, it is clear he is still bitter and hurt, but he has begun to accept that they shouldn't have expected it to work. If they couldn't work out their relationship in nine years, how could they expect marriage to work? I think he will be all right .. he will not let bitterness rule his life. Whether he will ever try to move on with someone else remains to be seen, but it looks unlikely right now. Sadly for me.

I have met Mattie. It was Christmas and Harm knew I didn't have family in London. I could have used some vacation time to fly back to Minnesota, but one of the reasons I left the Midwest was winter weather. The cold is bitter and snowstorms are frequent. I had no desire to try to fly into and out of Minneapolis during the winter if I could avoid it. I emailed my parents that I would come back for a visit in the spring. I'd stop in Chicago to see Jeff, then fly on to Minneapolis and spend some time there. Minnesota is wonderful in the spring, and I looked forward to the visit.

But that left me alone for Christmas. Harm brought it up tentatively, making sure I had no other plans, then inviting me to spend Christmas Day with Mattie and him at his home. Since Mattie is his ward, not Mac's, I suppose there isn't the usual shuffling of children between divorced parents. I wondered what Mattie and Mac's relationship was like. Would I meet resentment or welcome from her?

I actually met a little of both. Mattie is a slightly defiant, outspoken teenager. Any resentment toward me seems to come from a protectiveness for Harm. Mattie does not want to see him hurt again. She made several disparaging remarks about Mac so I don't have competition for Mattie's friendship in that regard. Harm helped things along. By Christmas we had spent several more hours together, getting to know one another. Our friendship was growing very quickly. In my case, much stronger feelings were growing quickly, too, but I had to hide them or risk jeopardizing the friendship. Harm's attitude toward me was comfortable, friendly, brotherly (ugh, but I'll take what I can get), and he assumed that Mattie would accept me in that role. Which she did for the most part. Until she found me alone on the couch while Harm finished up some things in the kitchen …

"Christine, can I ask you something?" Mattie looks defiant, strong, quite formidable.

"Of course," I assured her, though I feared what was coming.

"What do you want from Harm?"

The direct question had me stumbling. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Harm's the kind of guy that people want things from, and he doesn't see it. He's always ready to help. Look at me. He didn't have to take me in, but he did."

I decided to be direct. "Are you afraid that I will take his attention away from you?"

Mattie started to adamantly deny my question, but then stopped. With admirable honesty, she said, "Yeah, maybe a little. But mostly I don't want to see him hurt again. Mac hurt him bad. He trusted her and she kicked him in the teeth. I don't ever want that to happen again. I'm just giving you fair warning."

"Mattie, I like Harm a lot. We're becoming good friends. I think he sees himself as the big brother that I lost. I would never do anything to hurt him."

With surprising astuteness for one her age, Mattie asked, "Is that how you see Harm, as your big brother?"

"Well, I .." As I desperately tried to find an answer that wasn't a lie and wouldn't reveal my feelings, Harm saved me from having to answer. He came out of the kitchen and saw our intense discussion. I think he sensed something amiss, but chose to ignore it.

"Hey, what are you two conspiring about," he teased.

"Nothing," Mattie denied quickly. She jumped up, went to Harm and gave him a quick hug. Harm was clearly surprised but returned the hug and didn't press the issue.

Our lives settled into a pattern. Harm and I saw each other for part of a day most weekends and often one evening during the week. My strong physical attraction to him was tempered by our easy companionship. That didn't stop my fantasies in the middle of the night .. oh, well, a girl can dream!

Spring came and our weekends often were 'family' outings: Harm, Mattie and me. As the weather improved, Harm and I often went running together on Saturday mornings. I am physically fit and have been a runner for years. Harm only had to shorten his stride slightly for me to keep up. I really enjoyed those runs as the weather heated up. Harmon Rabb sweating in tank top and running shorts is a vision to make a girl's mouth drool. Sometimes I would purposely fall behind a few paces to enjoy the view of his well-muscled butt.

But most of the time I could just be his friend and companion, because the love I felt for this man was so much deeper and wider than just physical attraction. While he isn't perfect .. God, who would want that? Too boring and too hard to live up to .. he is a good man: strong, honest, kind, thoughtful, diligent .. OK, maybe I'm prejudice because I love him, but he's a keeper for sure. I just wish he didn't see me as a little sister.

At times the physical attraction was so strong that it was torture if he touched me. One day in late spring, we were walking back through the park to cool down from our run. A bright colored bird flitted in a tree nearby and Harm put his arm around me to direct my attention to the bird. As an electric shock ran through me I couldn't help myself .. I tensed and as carefully as possible, hoping not to draw attention to the movement, I stepped away from him forcing him to drop his arm.

Harm let his arm drop with a puzzled look. "Sorry, I forgot I was all sweaty," he offered as an excuse for my reaction, but it was an uncomfortable moment. I mumbled something, kept my eyes on the path ahead and kept walking. By the time we reached our cars, the moment had passed.

Still, after that incident, there were times when we were together that I would look up and catch a strange look in his eyes. A look that I hadn't seen before. Dare I say it, a look that a man gives a woman he is interested in romantically. But little changed. We were still friends and comfortable companions. What's changed is that he is careful not to touch me. I miss the rare physical contact, but know it is the price I have to pay to keep my physical reaction under control.

Time has a way of moving on. Summer was wonderful but it's late autumn again. It is almost a year since I met Harmon Rabb. That meeting was a life changing event for me. Just knowing him, loving him, has filled in the cracks and holes in my life and soul. I feel balanced, centered in my life. Oh, there is the frustration that he will never feel the same love for me that I feel for him, but if I can keep him in my life, perhaps that's enough.

And then as November approached and the days grew shorter, colder, and wetter, another life changing event occurred…


	3. Chapter 3

**Moving Forward**

By Bernadeen

Chapter 3

It is Tuesday morning. My car had been giving me some problems and this morning I dropped it off at the garage for repairs and service. There is a tube station nearby so for this one morning I would ride the subway. At the Embassy we have been monitoring increased chatter about a terrorism event, but there was no indication of when or where it might happen. Life cannot stop to await the hammer to fall. So this morning I enter the underground with other commuters.

We are one station away from my destination when the world erupts. Events happen so quickly that I cannot adequately describe them. The train had been slowing for a station so was not traveling at full speed. The sudden sound of screaming metal accompanied a jarring and abrupt stop. I was flung forward but was lucky enough not to hit my head or sustain anything more than bruises and a couple of deep scratches on my arms, though I'm not sure how they happened. Almost immediately the lights flickered and went out, plunging us into total darkness. I hear groans and murmurs in the seconds after the stop. Then someone screams that they can't see. Only seconds later the emergency lights come on. Lighting is dim but it's enough to see around me.

Most people seem uninjured, but are stunned. I feel certain it had to be another terrorist bombing somewhere down the line. We may be relatively unhurt, but we are probably trapped for now. The passengers help each other stand up. We pull pieces of clothing off to use for bandages for anyone who is bleeding seriously. Only a couple of those in our car, thankfully.

We move to the doors and realize that we can't get them open. There are emergency doors in the back of the train that we'll have to use. Several people who seem to have training for emergency situations .. probably off-duty police, firefighters, or military .. are taking charge. There's little panic until the smoke reaches us. It's thick and we're afraid fire is coming down the tunnel like a blow torch to consume us. Some people start pushing, others fall, to be stepped on by panicked passengers trying to escape to the back of the train.

Harm told me once that fear is useful in life threatening situations because it helps you think and act faster. Fear is only bad if it paralyzes you. Though I'm terrified, I'm still able to function. And somehow I have kept on my feet. I help gather up people to point them toward the back of the train .. toward the emergency exit and away from the smoke. We travel through several cars and eventually exit the train, only to wonder whether this will help us.

I assume that whatever happened has shut down all the trains, but I am not entirely sure that a train will not come up behind us and plow us all down. But the smoke is getting thicker from the front of the train and we need to move. I stumble slightly on the cross ties and thank my stars I wore slacks and flat shoes today.

As we begin to walk down the tracks, I come across an elderly woman who seems dazed and disoriented. She stumbles and stops. I take her arm and say, "Come on. I'll help you." And we continue down the tunnel. The station is several blocks away. In the dim, smoky light, walking down a tunnel never intended for foot traffic is slow going. I just hope that whatever happened is over .. that more bombs aren't waiting to be detonated up ahead. But I can't dwell on that .. I have to concentrate on getting out of here.

Thank God Harm and Mattie don't ride the tube. A spike of fear plunges through my heart as I wonder whether the JAG office is all right, whether Harm is all right. I have no way of knowing how wide spread the attack is until we get to the surface.

According to my watch it's been nearly half an hour since our train was stopped. We must be nearing the station. And then I hear a shout by one of those up ahead that the station is just ahead. We scramble up some service stairs onto the platform and head for the surface. The woman I am helping seems to be doing better but I'm still helping to steady her. The escalators are stopped so I move slowly beside her to make sure she can mange the stairs.

Finally we emerge on the surface .. to a scene of chaotic activity. Emergency vehicles are everywhere, lights flashing and sirens sounding. Most seem to be further down the line toward the next station, where I assume the bomb was placed. It occurs to me that if that bomb had exploded just minutes later, I might not be alive. It's a sobering thought, but one I can't dwell on right now.

Two ambulances are near our exit .. somehow they must have known passengers would be coming out this way. I hand the woman I have been helping over to medical personnel .. then they make me sit down while my cuts are cleaned and bandaged. It's strange that all the while we were in the tunnel, I didn't feel them at all, but now suddenly they hurt like hell .. and they appear to be deeper with a lot more bleeding than I realized. I'm glad to just sit here for a few minutes, while the adrenaline washes out of my system leaving me pale and shaky.

I'm thinking what I need to do next. My purse is still on the train and so is my cell phone. I should call the Embassy to let them know I'm all right. I should call Harm, too, though he didn't know I was riding the tube this morning so he wouldn't be worried.

Suddenly I can't seem to hold my head up. I see the black closing in at the edges of my sight and try to say something to the medic working on my arm. And that's the last I remember.

Some awareness returns and I can feel movement. I'm lying flat in some kind of a vehicle. Someone is leaning over me and talking to me. I have to concentrate... "Miss .. miss, what's your name?" The urgency and command in the voice pulls a response from me. I whisper my first name. It's the voice again, "Christine, stay with me. We'll have you in the hospital in a few minutes. Christine .."

I try so hard to focus on that voice, but the blackness is coming back.

I can hear a beeping that seems to be keeping pace with my heart. The bed is hard, slightly elevated at the head, and the room has the unmistakable odor of a hospital .. that sickly sweet antiseptic smell. I'm able to open my eyes and find a brightly lit room .. too brightly lit and I close my eyes again. Then it's too much effort to open them again and I drift off.

I again become aware of the beeping. My heartbeat. Awareness comes quicker this time and I open my eyes a slit. It's still bright, but it doesn't hurt my eyes as much. I want to know what happened to me .. I thought I was fine when I came out of the tunnel. I swing my eyes as far as I can trying to locate the call button … and end up looking out the window. Well, not really looking out the window because it's dark outside and I can see only a few street lights. I remember what happened .. the train bombing on my way to work this morning .. I assume it was this morning. Have I been unconscious all day?

I try to lift my arm to find the call button but my whole body is a lead weight. I can't move anything. I'm so tired .. I feel myself drifting off again, but my fuzzy brain tells me this time its sleep and not unconsciousness.

I become aware of movement in the room. Someone is listening to my chest with a stethoscope. With a start, I open my eyes to see a gray-haired man in a white coat standing beside my bed. "Well, Christine. I'm glad you're awake. How do you feel?"

I have to think about my answer. I manage to get words past a thick tongue and dry mouth. "Fuzzy. Don't hurt. Can .. have.. water?"

The doctor motions to someone else in the room and a nurse who I didn't notice before steps forward and slips a spoon with ice chips past my lips. I feel immediate relief and try to nod my thanks.

"I'm Dr. Smythe, Christine. You gave us a scare but you're going to be fine."

I work to form the question, "What happened?"

"Do you remember the bombing in the underground."

"I remember .. getting to the surface .. medic patching my arm .. fainting .."

"You lost a lot of blood and with all the dirt and smoke and you running on adrenaline to get out, no one, even you, realized how badly you were injured. You went into shock from blood loss. We've given you a transfusion. You'll be weak for a few days, but you should recover quickly."

I only have energy to nod.

"Can you tell me your last name? We couldn't find any identification."

I have to gather my strength to answer .. I'm feeling so tired again. "Montgomery ... work at American Embassy." I want so badly to ask what time it is, but I can't keep my eyes open …

Next time when I awake, I feel like I've slept long and well. It's hard to remember how badly I felt last time I was awake, because I feel almost back to normal now. Weak, certainly, and a little thick headed, but decidedly better. I turn my head and realize I'm maybe not quite back to normal when a wave of dizziness hits me. I close my eyes but open them as soon as I can because of what I thought I saw in the chair beside the bed.

When the room stops spinning, I cautiously open my eyes, and sure enough .. there's a tall figure scrunched down dozing in the chair, his head leaning on this hand, elbow propped on the arm of the chair. He looks tired and uncomfortable, but I'm very glad to see him. I try out my voice and find it works, sort of. "Harm .." it doesn't come out very loud and cracks half way through his name, but he's awake instantly and standing over me.

"Hey, Christine. You OK?"

"Getting better, I think. What time .. is it?" I notice it's getting light outside the window.

"About 0700. The bombings were yesterday morning."

"How bad?"

"There were four bombs, but three went off when no trains were near. Lots of damage to the subway system. One train had some casualties .. I haven't heard a final count."

"How'd you know .. about me?"

"When the bombings happened, I had a bad feeling, so I called the Embassy. When you hadn't gotten to work two hours after the bombs, I knew it was more than that you were just caught in traffic. I called the hospitals and the Embassy used its diplomatic power to try to find you, but you hadn't been identified until late last night. As soon as I got the call, I came right over."

"You've been here .. all night? You do look tired."

"I was here most of the night." His gaze was intense as he carefully picked up my hand and held it. "Christine, you gave me quite a scare." There was a world of meaning behind those words but my head wasn't clear enough to sort it out right now.

"Sorry .. so tired .. can't stay awake .."

As I fell asleep again, I thought I felt a touch on my check and heard him say, "It's all right, sweetheart, just rest," but I had to have dreamed that last.

Once my strength started to return, I bounced back fast. The next day I was released from the hospital with the understanding that I would not go back to work this week. I was told to get lots of rest, drink plenty of fluids which would help compensate for the blood loss and shock, and I should be good as new in a couple of weeks.

And when I was ready to be discharged, Harm and Mattie were there to take me home .. with them. Mattie insisted. She had grown quite fond of me, and the feeling was mutual. She had lost two women who were important in her life: first her mother dying in a car accident and then Mac abandoning her. Her emotions are fragile when it comes to the possibility of losing another woman she cares about, namely me. So from the time I was released from the hospital until the end of the next day at Harm and Mattie's home, Mattie fussed over me. I understood her need to take care of me, but by the end of the day, she was beginning to try my nerves.

After supper, Mattie was fluffing pillows on the couch behind me and asking me if she could bring me anything and even when I said no, I was fine, she brought me a soda and some cookies. Finally, I gave Harm a look to say I needed to talk to Mattie. He understood my silent message and busied himself in an alcove that he had made into an office.

The next time Mattie came to ask if she could do anything, I patted the sofa beside me and asked her to sit down.

"Mattie, we need to talk about what happened. I know it shook you up after losing your mother. And I know you feel like you need to take care of me to compensate. But, Mattie, I'm fine. Really. The bombings were terrible. We live in scary times. But if we let fear of what might happen, fear of losing someone close to us .. if we let fear rule our lives, we can't enjoy life the way we should. If it's our time, then it's our time. Tuesday wasn't my time. What can I do to help you get over your fear?"

Mattie looked like she was going to cry, but she admitted, "I was just so scared. I was so scared for me, but I was more scared for Harm. He really cares for you and he was frantic when we couldn't locate you. I've never seen him like that." She grinned. "I'm surprised he's not hovering, too." She said cautiously, "Maybe a hug would help."

I immediately reached for her and we clung to each other for a long time, feeling the solid, strong life in each of us, and knowing it was not easily extinguished.

After that things were better. I did notice Harm hovering a bit, too, but he didn't say much. On Friday I insisted on going to my own apartment for the weekend. I really needed to rest and I could best do that alone. Harm drove me to my place, and then announced that he would bring lunch and something for supper so I didn't need to do anything for food. It was sweet and thoughtful and I was grateful.

The next week I returned to work and life seemed to settle into its old routine. Except that there seemed to be a tenseness around Harm when he was near me. I couldn't be sure, but something was different.

And something was different for me, too. The bombings and my injuries showed me just how short life could be. Yes, I believed that when it was our time, there was nothing we could do about it. But that just meant that we needed to do what we wanted to do .. get from life what we wanted while we could… And I wanted Harm .. and I wanted Harm's child. I knew Harm wanted a child of his own so I decided to take a risk. Take the back way into his heart. The child first and then maybe, someday, he would come to love me, too. And as much as I wanted to have a baby .. to feel it growing in my womb .. the image of its conception drove me to distraction.

It was a chilly Saturday. The wind was raw and Harm and I opted to spend the day at his flat .. it had a fireplace. Mattie was spending the weekend with friends so we had the day, and the apartment, to ourselves. It was my chance. Now if only I could get up the nerve…

We had watched a movie. Then Harm made hot cocoa, and we sat side by side on the sofa near the fireplace enjoying the coziness of the setting. Finally I decided I had the perfect opportunity .. I had to do this. "Harm .."

"Mmmm" He sounded sleepy.

"Are you going to sleep?"

"No, just feeling relaxed and lazy by the fire."

"Harm, can we talk?"

My tone must have caught his attention because he turned to me and smiled affectionately. "Always."

"Harm .. the day of the subway attack .. it changed some things for me. I've been thinking about what I want in life .. that life can be so short .. and I want some things before my time runs out."

"What is it you want out of life?"

"I want a child. I'm 35 and I don't have many years left when I can be sure that it can happen without undue risk." I watch Harm for his reaction, but he simply raises his eyebrows questioningly, and remains silent.

"Well .. here's the thing .. I know you want a child, too .. and I thought .. maybe .. if you want to … that we could have one together …" I trail off when I see a look of pain and maybe even anger flash across his face before he turns away from me.

As I curse myself for being so stupid, I hastily apologize. "Harm, never mind, never mind. I'm sorry I brought it up. Can we forget I ever said anything? Please?" I begged.

But when he turns back to me, I see humor and a bit of lingering sadness. "I'm sorry. You just caught me off guard and it was a moment of deja vu. I made a similar offer to a woman once. It didn't work out." His look is intent. "You really would consider having a baby with me?" he sounds disbelieving.

"Harm, you're my friend and I know you well. You're a good man, I care for you, and it would be an honor to have your child."

He stares at me so long that I start to stammer again. "But .. but if you just couldn't think of doing that, I understand. It's alright, really."

"I'm just trying to get used to the idea. I'm not saying no, Christine. I'm just .. just surprised .. and flattered .. that you would want me to be the father of your child."

"Our child, Harm. If we do this, it will be our child, together. I want us to raise the child together." And then I hold my breath as he again stares at me with an intensity that is slightly disconcerting.

And then he smiles .. that bright, bone-melting smile that weakens my knees and makes me glad I'm sitting down, and I breathe again. "All right. I agree." The smile falters and he looks embarrassed. "We're friends, but we've never done romantic things together. How would this work?"

I can't help teasing him gently. "You're a big boy, you have to know how it works."

He lets out a surprised sputter of laughter, but quickly recovers. "Yes, Miss Montgomery. I know how it works. I just meant .. well .. you don't seem to like me touching you .."

Guiltily I remember the day I stepped out of his embrace because he just turned me on too much. I shrug and say as casually as I can, "I don't know .. I must have felt weird that day. Forget about it .. we can take it slow .. get used to the idea .. just be more physical when we're together .. we'll know when the time is right .. when we're ready." I say hopefully. I don't want to spook him now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Moving Forward**

By Bernadeen

Last chapter – Thanks for reading. Also please see A/N at end of story.

**Chapter 4**

And so the next stage of my relationship with Harmon Rabb began. We were still comfortable with each other, except that now I would lay my hand on his arm to get his attention, or touch his shoulder as I passed his chair. Sometimes he reached up to smooth my hair after we ran together. And soon we would wrap our arms around each other's waists for support after some particularly strenuous exercise. This stage was moving much more rapidly than the others had. Within a month, Harm was entirely comfortable dropping kisses on my head, shoulder or nose. I hugged him frequently or trailed my fingers through his hair.

I made an appointment with a gynecologist, just to be sure I could keep my end of the bargain. She was a jolly woman from Ireland. After the exam, she said in her soft Irish brogue, "Yer strong and healthy and yer pelvis is wide. You should have no troubles giving your man as many babies as he wants. And your breasts are plump enough to keep a wee one healthy and content for at least six months." I was slightly embarrassed by her frankness, but happy that there was nothing to prevent me from having Harm's child.

One weekend in mid-December, Harm slipped he arm around me and whispered in my ear, "I think we're ready."

I had no need to ask ready for what. I just looked up at him and smiled.

He continued, "Look, I want to do something special. This is a big step. It changes everything between us and it could soon change our whole family. What do you say?"

"I disagree that it changes everything. We'll still be friends, I hope. And just what do you have in mind?" I ask playfully.

"Yes, of course we'll always be friends." And to reinforce his statement, he dropped a kiss on my nose. "And what I have in mind is getting out of London .. just a little ways. I've been driving by this country inn on the way to the base and I finally stopped to check it out. It's great .. I think you'd love it. If I can arrange it for next weekend, will you be ready? Friday night after work and Saturday. We'll come back on Sunday."

I calculate my personal calendar and thank my luck that I won't have my period next weekend. It also won't be mid-month so conception is unlikely, but the practice should be fun! "I'll be ready," I tell him. But before we finish this conversation I had to ask him one more thing. "Harm, have you told Mattie about our plans? About the baby?"

Harm laughed. "Yes, and she's all for it. In fact, if she had her way, she'd have us in bed before now."

"Harm," I exclaimed, mildly shocked.

"That was my reaction, too, when she made that statement to me. You know how outspoken Mattie can be. But, bottom line, she's happy for us. She wants a baby brother or sister, but even more she wants me to be happy. And she says you make me happy." I feel the prickle of tears as I hug him.

On Tuesday morning, Harm calls me at work to tell me we have reservations for Friday night. We arrange the time for him to pick me up, and then the anticipation begins. The week is a roller coaster of emotions, but as Friday nears, I'm surprised to realize a calmness is settling over me. It's a feeling that has been a characteristic of my relationship with Harm and I'm glad it hasn't deserted me.

Friday evening arrives and Harm picks me up right on time. True to his word, the drive is short .. only about half an hour. We turn off the main road and follow a dark lane through the trees. After a few yards, there are small lights along the road leading the way, and then above our heads are fairy lights strung in the trees. I'm charmed by it all.

We soon reach the inn and stop at the front in an area which could hold about four cars. The parking lot is lit, as is the front of the inn. I see a solid stone building, not particularly large. A lamp in every window sends out its welcome to us.

The elderly couple who run the inn welcome us. Our room is at the end of the second floor hall and consists of a comfortable sitting area, a table and two chairs by one wall, a large bathroom with both an old fashioned tub and a modern shower, and a separate bedroom with a four-poster bed so high that we may need a step stool to get into it. Supper is laid out on the table. We thank the gentlemen who showed us to our room and then we are alone.

Surprisingly, I'm not particularly nervous. "Shall we eat?" I ask.

We take our time with the meal, once again enjoying each other's company. It has been a hallmark of our acquaintance that we always have an abundance of topics to discuss, that we debate but don't argue, that we seldom become impatient with each other, and always seem to sense the other's mood. And our mood tonight is happiness and anticipation. Over supper I decide to tell him about my visit to the doctor. "Harm, a few days ago I saw a doctor, just to check on things."

His reaction is not what I expect. There's fear in his eyes and I hasten to assure him, "Everything is fine. In fact my gynecologist was from Ireland and she was quite outspoken." With my best Irish accent, which probably isn't very good, I quote the doctor's diagnosis. "She told me that I'm strong and my pelvis is wide and I should have no trouble giving my man as many babies as he wants. And she said my breasts were plump enough to keep wee ones content and well fed for six months." By the time I'm finished, we're both laughing.

Our meal finished, Harm stands and gently pulls me up, encircling me with his arms and draws me close. "This is it, Christine. Your last chance to say no. Are you sure?"

"Very sure." And with those words still on my lips, Harm kisses me. We have kissed before, just quick, friendly pecks. This is our first lovers kiss and it rocks my world. His lips are soft and then firm, moving, tasting. Then I feel his tongue push against my lips, seeking entrance, and I open my mouth to him. My scalp prickles at the sensation of Harm's tongue exploring my mouth, hooking with my tongue, tasting, his breath flowing into me. I hear a moan .. I'm not sure whether it's mine or his. I've wondered what the first time would be like. Would it be fast and hot and frantic .. or would it be slow and soft and seductive. It soon becomes clear to me that while Harm may want to be slow and seductive, neither he nor I want to wait long to completely be together.

I lean back just enough to pull my sweater off over my head and then I grab his and do the same thing. He's wearing a t-shirt and I'm wearing a bra so we're not skin to skin yet. "You have too many layers of clothes," I mutter, which brings a laugh from him and a grin from me. He pulls his t-shirt off and I lay my hands flat against his muscled, slightly hairy chest. Then I lean forward and lick it just to see what Harmon Rabb tastes like. When I look up, he's grinning at me and some of the urgency goes away. Another hallmark of our relationship is that we can always play.

And we do play. But there is an urgency in our actions. We manage to get to the bed and climb into it, now devoid of most of our clothes. I know I'm hot and wet and I can feel Harm's manhood long and hard against my thigh. He kisses my neck and shoulders and sucks on my breasts, nearly driving me wild with need. Finally, he's positioned, ready for us to finally come together, when he hesitates. Smiling down at me, he says, "I had a medical exam, too. You'll be happy to know that I have no unpleasant diseases lurking around and that both the volume and activity of my sperm is in the 95th percentile." He gives me a quick kiss. "So, you see, I can carry out my end of the bargain, too." It is the most beautiful thing a man could do for me and I find tears in my eyes.

And with those words, he slowly slides inside me. He fills me and completes me. We come together in this most intimate way just as we have in so many other ways, as though we have always known each other and were made for each other. He begins moving and I near my climax very quickly. I'm not sure what I am saying .. I know I whisper his name .. as my body tenses almost unbearably, journeying towards my climax, I tell him how wonderful he is .. how long I have fanaticized about this and how much better he is than my fantasies. As my mind seems to float away in ecstasy, my body tightens and convulses around him. He groans my name as his body jerks and I feel the warmth of his seed flowing into me.

We lie together, his weight shifted slightly so as not to be too heavy on me. Our bodies relax, muscle by muscle, as contentment produced only by great sex flows through us. As our breathing returns to normal, Harm raises himself on one elbow and stares down at me. I can't read his expression and I'm getting worried. "What…?" I ask.

"You fantasized about us being together?"

Oh, damn. "Yes."

"When did it begin." He sounds like he's cross-examining a witness.

I can't lie to him. "Soon after we met."

"But I thought .. I thought you saw me like a big brother .. didn't you?"

"Not even close. But you only thought of me as your little sister, so what else could I do?"

"Oh, Christine, sweetheart. I was attracted to you from the start. But I was hurting from Mac's walking out on our marriage and I couldn't trust any woman just then. But for whatever reason, I knew I couldn't lose contact with you. That month before you called was the longest of my life. For all I knew, you would never call. And if you hadn't called when you did, I would have called you very soon." He pushed my hair off my cheek and temple with gentle fingers. "I love you, Christine. I have for a long time."

Now there are tears in my eyes. I blink them away and answer the way I had longed to do. "I love you, too, Harm."

It was the most wonderful weekend of my life. We spent it snuggling, making love so many times I lost track, and eating the meals brought to us as room service. On Sunday morning we packed and returned to London.

On Monday morning, a dozen red roses .. red for love and passion .. were delivered to my office. The card simply said "Love, H"

The next weekend Harm asked to spend with me at my place. He arrived looking like a little boy who had done something special for his Mom and couldn't wait to see her reaction. I knew something was up with him, but he didn't give me any clues. His kisses were even more passionate than last weekend and soon we were naked in bed .. a location that was fast becoming one of my favorites. Later, we ate a light supper, and he had that look again. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. "What's going on with you?"

He immediately tried to look innocent, but couldn't pull it off. So he grinned and went to get something from his coat. When he returned, he smoothly knelt on the floor in front of me and opened the velvet jeweler's box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. I couldn't breathe and I know my eyes were like saucers.

"Christine, I want you with me for as long as we live. Will you marry me?"

All I could do was whisper, "Yes." Then I caught my breath and repeated it. "Yes, yes." He slipped the ring on my finger and kissed me till my senses were whirling. And then we ended up in bed again.

Just three weeks later, we were married in a quiet civil ceremony with a few of our friends present. We had told our parents and promised to visit soon, but the logistics of arranging a wedding that all of our families could attend would have made us wait too long. We wanted to be free to spend our time together, as a married couple. Our abbreviated honeymoon was spent at the same inn where we first became lovers.

We have been married for a month. Such a wonderful month. This evening, Harm brought work home from the office. I'm tired and told him I am going to bed. I told him not to work too late. When I am ready for bed, I carefully place on Harm's pillow a small white stick with a blue cross in the middle. I really want to stay awake to see his reaction, but I can't keep my eyes open.

I am awakened by laughter and kisses. Harm's holding the stick and asks, "Does this mean what I think it means?"

I nod. "I missed my last period so I bought a home test. It's positive, but I haven't seen the doctor yet."

Harm swoops down on me, practically crushing me in his arms in his delight. I laugh at his antics and whisper, "I'm glad you're happy, Daddy."

Now we had to make the trip back to the States to see our families while it was still safe for me to fly, and we set about making travel arrangements.

My pregnancy progressed smoothly. I had little morning sickness. The sonogram indicated that we had a son. Harm was ecstatic. Then in my seventh month, an event occurred that we both knew was possible.

I was with Harm in his office. I rarely went there, but this was actually a business meeting. A case involved both the military and a civilian American in London. Harm and I were deep into the case, when Lt. Graves slipped into Harm's office. Her nervousness .. normally nothing made Cathy nervous .. and her breach of protocol in entering without knocking .. had both of us on alert.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, Captain, but there's someone to see you, and she's in a hurry."

Harm asked, "who is it?" and he and I exchanged a look that said we already suspected who it might be.

"It's Colonel MacKenzie, sir," Cathy confirmed my suspicions.

"Harm," I ask quietly, "does she know about us and about .." My eyes dropped toward my extended belly and my meaning was clear.

"Not from me. We haven't kept in touch. But she has probably heard scuttlebutt about our marriage."

"Harm, bring her in here in case she doesn't know. She shouldn't find out in the middle of the bullpen."

During this quiet exchange, Lt. Graves had hovered near the door. Now Harm tells her to send Colonel MacKenzie in.

We both stand as Mac enters the office. She is surprised to see an unknown woman in Harm's office. I can see her quick appraisal. Civilian, pregnant .. and her dismissal of me as unimportant. And I see a beautiful .. a classically beautiful woman, even in the Marine uniform. But I see a hardness in her eyes and I'm glad that Harm is no longer within reach of her claws and sharp tongue.

Ignoring me, she says, "Hello, Harm. You're looking good."

"Thanks. So are you, Mac," Harm responds pleasantly. "I see you made full Colonel. Congratulations." He hesitates only a second before introducing me. "Mac, this is Christine Montgomery, a legal advisor to the diplomatic corps at the American Embassy…" he pauses for effect " … and my wife."

I watch as Mac visibly pales. She clearly didn't know about our marriage, and she's shocked. She's looking at me more closely, venom in her eyes, as she slowly looks down and up, her gaze stopping on my swollen body.

Slowly Mac turns to address Harm. "Well, Harm." I swear I could hear ice crackle. "I see you seduced a woman into giving you what I couldn't."

I am shocked at the insult, but Harm is livid. In a deceptively soft voice that I recognize as very, very dangerous, he tells her, "Mac, you left me, remember? Christine is a recognized expert in international law, she is a representative of the United States on foreign soil, and she is my wife. You will show her respect in all of those capacities, is that understood?"

Mac paled even more if that were possible, then slumped slightly. "You're right, Harm. It was just such a shock." Turning to me, she continued, "I apologize, Christine. I hope you realize how fortunate you are to have a man like Harm and to be having his baby."

"Oh, I am, Colonel MacKenzie. I am." I state adamantly. I turn to Harm. "Thanks for your advice on this case. I'll see you at home tonight." Then I do something that I would normally never do at the office. I reach up and give him a quick kiss on the lips. As I leave the room, I look directly into Mac's eyes and send a very clear silent message that Harm is mine and he's going to stay mine and Mac had better stay the hell away.

I'm back in my office and I worry about what is going on in Harm's office. Oh, I trust him implicitly, and I doubt that Mac would do anything too far out of line. But she can hurt him with verbal barbs. Harm has said enough for me to know she has a sharp tongue.

Half an hour later, my phone rings. It's Harm telling me everything is fine .. he's fine .. and that we'll talk at home tonight.

Later that evening, supper is finished, and we settle in to talk about our day. Harm knows what I'm wondering about. He sits on the sofa and draws me close beside him, his arm around my shoulders. I lay my head on his chest. I love to listen to him talk that way .. to hear the deep rumbling of his voice all the way down his chest.

"Sweetheart, I have something to tell you." I start to sit up, but his hand on my hair sooths me back into my resting position. He goes on, "I'm glad I saw Mac today. You know how much I love you and you know how happy I am in our marriage. But I have to confess that there has always lingered in the back of my mind the question of whether our marriage .. Mac's and mine .. would have worked if the coin had fallen the other way .. if I had resigned my commission and followed her to San Diego. After today, I believe that Mac and I would have reached the same point in San Diego as we did in London. I don't believe I could ever have lived up to Sarah MacKenzie's expectations .. no man can. But I would have tried .. I did try, but she left anyway." He hugs me tighter and buries his face in my hair. "You saved me from the heartache caused by Sarah MacKenzie. I love you more than I can ever tell you."

And with those words, I knew that Harmon Rabb was truly and completely mine. Any threat from Mac was gone. I sighed and whispered, "I'm so very glad I stopped in the Release Your Cares Pub. Fate smiled on us that night. I love you so much, Harm."

**End**

A/N: I have always admired the character of Mac, though I thought she was less likeable in later seasons. She is complex and intriguing. Mac fans are probably unhappy with the manner of her brief appearance in this chapter. I feel a bit bad about that, but I needed to portray her this way to remove any lingering obstacle she might present and allow Harm and Christine to find happiness together.

If it's any consolation, I am presently working on a Harm and Mac JAG story in which Mac is more like we would expect to see her – a take charge Marine who will do whatever it takes to protect Harm.


End file.
